


your heart is a masterpiece, and i'll keep it safe

by jamesniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Homophobic Language, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesniall/pseuds/jamesniall
Summary: "Will we ever have a date that doesn't involve you getting into trouble?" Harry chimes, turning around and facing Niall again."Me getting into trouble has given us two free meals now, I'd call that a success." Niall jokes, "told you I like you keep you on your toes.""I'd just like to keep you safe and away from medical emergencies." Harry replies, putting his arms around Niall's neck and bringing him closer.-Or, the five times Niall ends up in the Emergency Room and one time Harry spares him the trip.





	your heart is a masterpiece, and i'll keep it safe

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOOO!!
> 
> god it's been a loooooong time. i honestly didn't think i'd ever write again, but wow here i am! all thanks yto the wonderful and sweet anons that inspired me into getting back to it :')
> 
> soooo, this is based on a prompt i got mooooonths ago on tumblr and was just sitting there in my drafts waiting to be finished. it's also a gift for the lovely and VERY patient anons that cheered me on along the way, i hope you like it!!
> 
> also, sorry for taking so damn long. what started as a 5k fic max. ended up as a 18k monster that took a life of its own and refused to be finished. anyway, i really really hope the wait is worth it and that you guys like it.
> 
> ~a trigger warning for homophobic language, i didnt use any /words, slurs/ but like, a nasty character that says nasty things to niall so a heads up for that in the 5th scene.
> 
> ~as a general warning there's a couple mentions about puking, nothing graphic, but in case u want to know what sort of medical things are ahead u can skip down to the end notes!

_1_

_Make my messes matter. Make this chaos count. Let every little fracture in me shatter out loud._

Having the night shift at the E.R on Friday nights it’s always a chore. Harry always tries his best to change it with one of his colleagues, even if he has to take Monday’s morning shift where everyone comes with the silliest symptoms to get some excuse to get out of their jobs for a couple days.

This time, however, Liam has a family thing he can’t get out of and Harry has to cover the night shift.

It goes as he expected it.

Drunk college students with alcohol poisoning are the most common gig of the night, followed by guys with concussions and broken noses that can only be attributed to bar fights.

It’s around 10 pm when he’s making a round through the new arrivals when he sees a guy sitting in the waiting room with what seems to be a scarf wrapped around his left arm and a guitar tightly clutched in his right hand.

He looks downright miserable. Soaked to the bone – though Harry doesn’t recall it raining when he started his shift – hair plastered to his forehead and a bruise in his right cheek that he can tell it’s gonna swell and hurt as fuck tomorrow morning.

He takes a look around the room and figures he’s the most interesting case he can get out of the night.

“Hello there, I’m Doctor Styles. Did the nurse give you the triage paper?” He asks, looking down at the brown haired guy, who startles at his voice.

“Oh, hi, yes, uh,” he searches around his pockets for a bit, hissing when he disturbs his homemade bandage, Harry doesn’t know if he’s hiding a broken, burnt or cut arm, but he’s sure the scarf it’s not wrapped up properly for none of those situations.

He finally finds a yellow crumbled up paper in the pocket of his jeans, “thought the red papers got attention first.” He says, looking up to Harry and handing him the paper.

“Yeah, Friday nights are usually full of yellow ones, though.” Harry says, scanning the paper quickly and seeing  _Niall J. Horan, 25 year old male, reported bar fight, probable broken wrist, no signs of concussion, vitals in order, pain 8/10._ “How’s your pain right now?”

“Out of ten? It’s been simmering between 8 and 9 for the last hour,” Niall replies with a shrug. “Nurse told me x-rays were necessary but that I would have to leave my guitar outside,” he continues, “I refused, because have you seen the people around this place? They’re all drunk. No way I’m leaving it out here only to find it broken, so if you can tell me what to do or what to take for the pain I’d appreciate it so I can go home.”

“You could have a broken wrist, judging by the pain I’m pretty sure that’s the case, isn’t getting the x-ray more important than a guitar?” Harry asks, an amused smile making his way through as Niall splutters and shakes his head.

“’Course it isn’t more important, she’s one of a kind. Actually my arm might be broken because I fell out of the stage to protect her.” He states. A stubborn frown taking over his face.

“Alright,” Harry nods, “You can leave it in my office while we do x-rays and get you proper treatment. That way both of you will be safe.”

“Really?” Niall asks, “Hey, thank you mate! I hope it’s not a bother.”

“None at all, just follow me and we’ll get it done quick enough.”

-

Half an hour later Niall’s sitting in a stretcher as Harry wraps up his broken wrist properly. His guitar resting beside him. “I cannot help but ask, what did you mean you fell out of a stage to save your guitar?”

“Oh,” he laughs, “well, you see, I play in this bar on Friday nights, to help a bit with the bills, you know? Being a just-graduated-nutritionist doesn’t give you much, so I was there, just chilling, getting ready to finish the set, when a bunch of assholes started fighting, throwing punches and chairs and tables went flying. My guitar was in the direct line of fire.” He says, pausing a bit to swallow harshly as Harry moves his arm to check the blood flow is alright and the bandages are just tight enough. “So I try to yell at ‘em to be careful but just as I was about to reach the guitar and leave a guy was pushed over, I can only guess he was dead drunk, because he didn’t even try to slow down the fall, and I could only see his ass was for sure gonna land on my guitar, so I jumped head first to grab it and he fell on me, I fell on the corner of the stage, thus the bruising.”

“Is that why you told the nurse the reason of all this was a bar fight?”

“Well, technically it all started with a bar fight, but as I was about to explain it all she just went and rolled his eyes and gave me a yellow paper.” Niall says, a sour look on his face, “real rude of her, you know.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to forgive her,” Harry says with a small smile, “we don’t get much of anything other than bar fights on Friday nights.” He continues, handing Niall a sheet of paper with his prescribed pain medication.

“Do I have to come for you to take a look at it again? Like, remove the bandage or something?” Niall asks, looking a bit forlornly at the piece of paper.

“Oh, yeah but not here, exactly. You can call this number,” he says, handing Niall a small card that just says  _Liam Payne_  and two phone numbers. “He’s the best orthopedist you’ll ever find in this hospital. He’ll do an x-ray, check everything’s alright and in about 4 weeks you’ll be bandages free.” He finishes, smiling despite the fact that Niall looks kind of sad. Disappointed even. “He really is the best, you’ve got nothing to be scared of, he’ll take good care of you.”

“Not as good as you,” Niall mutters under his breath as Harry turns his back on him to open the curtain that was separating them from the rest of the E.R.

“What was that?” Harry asks.

“Oh, nothing, just. Thinking out loud about whether I should try to find a bus or just walk home.”

“I can call you a cab if you’d like.” Harry offers. Helping Niall gather his guitar, papers and card without losing anything.

“No, that’s alright. I left my jacket at the bar so I have no change with me, just my very loyal Oyster card and two well-functioning legs.”

“It’s really late, Niall, really. I can lend you some, it’s no trouble.” Harry says, searching in his pockets for his wallet, “I’d be no good of me as a doctor if I fix you up only to let you walk home at two in the morning. Cab is the safest option.”

“Also the most expensive,” Niall remarks, “we’re in an alright neighborhood and I live like half an hour from here, it’ll be alright.” Then, with a bit more of spark in his eyes, he says; “If you want you can give me your number and I can text you as soon as I get home.”

Harry seemed too busy looking into his wallet to notice, though, “Here, just a couple of bucks. Just in case you decide your house’s too far and you’re too tired or cold to keep walking.” He says, handing Niall a couple of folded bills. “Or in case you have nothing in your Oyster card. Can’t never be too safe.”

He’s just finished talking when a beep comes from his pocket. Eyes opening wide when he sees a red alert from his pager.

“Well, look at that. You can have a couple red cases on Friday nights too.” Harry says, shaking his head, “Have a nice evening. Don’t forget to pick up your meds tomorrow morning. What I just gave you we’ll be enough for the night but it might get really achey if you move around a lot.” Harry says, walking fast towards the nurses’ station. “No guitar playing, for at least a week, let your hand heal nicely. If there’s more swelling, your fingers get really cold, dark or you can’t feel them or there’s any fever at all, please come back to the E.R immediately.” Harry says in a rush as he checks the new triage papers. “Any questions?”

“Thank you.” Says Niall. “Really, you were the nicest doctor I’ve ever met and I promise when I come back for that check-up I’ll hunt you down and pay you back.”

“No need,” Harry replies with a smile, “I’ve got to run. Have a safe trip home!”

And with that he leaves, back towards the entrance of the E.R where an ambulance is pulling in someone in a really bloody stretcher.

With a shudder, Niall turns to leave, not before looking back at Harry for the last time and saying to himself, “next time I’ll get his number.”

_2_

_It’s okay if you can’t catch your breath, you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest_

Three weeks later, Niall’s arm itches.

He’s desperate to rip off the bandage but he knows he has yet another week before his appointment with Dr. Payne next Thursday at three.

He also knows that he’s not as anxious to take the bandage off as much as he is to see Harry again.

He needs a distraction, he decides. So he sends a quick text to Louis and he agrees to meet up after his shift at the clinic he works in as a physiotherapist.

They take a few pints and since the afternoon gives them a bit of sun they decided to drink them outside, in an empty park bench.

The first thing Niall notices is the amount of flowers surrounding it, and the thinks it might as well be surrounded with bees, which may be the reason why it’s empty. Then he remembers it’s Wednesday midafternoon and everyone must still be at work or at school.

Louis starts talking about a curious case he had last week when Niall interrupts him halfway with a sneeze.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Niall says, wiping his nose with the napkin that came with the beer.

Louis looks at him oddly but continues talking.

Not even five minutes later he sneezes again.

“Mate, I don’t think you sitting in a place surrounded by pollen is the best idea.” Louis says, looking around the area surrounding them, “this is giving me allergies just looking at it,” he shudders, “you up for a footie match? Place’s empty at this time of the day.”

He decides his knee it’s alright enough to play.

An hour and a half later Louis is sweaty and Niall is so winded he actually has to use his inhaler to calm down his breathing a bit. Mostly to appease the look Louis is giving him.

After he gives himself two puffs he shakes it a bit and realizes he’ll be needing a refill sooner rather than later. His inhaler at home is full, still. But the one he carries with him has about 2 puffs left and he knows well enough by know it’s better to deal with the pharmacy’s long lines than to deal with and asthma attack with only one of his inhalers.

Louis is still giving him  _that_ look.

“Stop looking at me like that, you’ve been a mother-hen since that one time.”

“That one time where I needed to call an ambulance because you had an asthma attack so bad you couldn’t breathe for a full five minutes.” Louis deadpans. His glare intensifying.

“It wasn’t  _that_  bad,” Niall says back, just to be contrary.

He shudders every time he remembers they had to call an ambulance on him because his home inhaler was over and the other was in the jacket that he put in the laundry bucket the night before.

It had been building up the entire day, with the cold morning, the jog he let Eoghan convinced him to take with him and the flowers his neighbor planted in the garden right next to his kitchen window.

That, mixed with Louis’ idea to start a food fight under the pretense of baking cookies for his sisters, which ended up with flour up Niall’s nostrils and stuck to his throat, concluded in the most awful attack he’d had since he was a child.

Louis didn’t hesitate to turn over Niall’s bedroom in search for his inhaler. In the mist of it all he’d ending up forgetting that he’d already put the laundry in the hamper. So Louis, despite his best efforts of getting every single piece of clothing out of Niall’s closet, of course didn’t find it.

Both panicking, an ambulance had to be called and Niall ended up staying overnight at the hospital with an oxygen cannula on his face.

All because he didn’t bother standing half an hour in the line to get a refill of his home inhaler.

This time, he won’t make the same mistake.

“Do you have both your inhalers full right now?” Louis asks, suspicion clear in his voice.

“’Course I do.” Niall replies, a white lie is better than the speech Louis would give him if he says one of them is running out.

“You better.” Louis says, and that’s that. Niall makes a mental note to go first thing tomorrow morning.

-

The morning is really windy, Niall notices.

It’s cold enough to make him put on a jacket, but not cold enough to make him take a cab to the pharmacy instead of just walking. And it’s cheaper that way too.

On his way there, he passes by a construction site, the wind is so strong the dust is flying all over the street and he can feel it in his eyes, blinding him for a minute.

He’s really questioning his supposed Irish luck when a woman rushes past him in a hurry, a bucket of flowers so big it flickers him in the nose and he ends up sneezing so hard his chest hurts.

The pain isn’t quite pain as much as it is a bother.

And it’s so familiar he actually laughs at the irony of it all.

He takes the good, responsible decision on refilling his asthma medication and of course on the very same day his body prepares for an attack.

He shoots a text to Louis, because despite the teasing and the banter, the ambulance incident apparently left him traumatized for life and he begged Niall to keep him informed if he ever had an attack that bad again.

He figures he’ll be alright. It’ll be warm inside the pharmacy, no dust, no flowers. He can just sit, breathe and wait till both his inhalers are good to go again.

Of course, because life’s out to get him, the light turns red when he’s about to cross the street and he ends up between two smokers. He tries to step away, he  _knows_  how bad cigarette smoke gets to him, but he realizes he can’t.

In front of him is the street, with fast cards that’d no doubt hurt him if he went to take a step forward. Behind him is a woman with a baby in her arms and another in a trolley that’s close enough to touch the back of his shins. And at each side of him, smoking.

He tries to stop himself from inhaling more of the smoke but the more he doesn’t breathe the worst the bother in his chest gets. He’ll just have to wait a couple more seconds. But he knows the signs, he knows he’ll go into a full blown asthma attack in less time it’ll take the light to change to green again, cross the street, walk the 2 streets separating him from the pharmacy, wait in line and get a refill.

With shaky hands he pulls his inhaler out of his pocket and says, voice raspy already, to the two men smoking “Sorry, mate, would you guys mind?” As he shakes his inhaler and takes a puff.

One’s only enough when it’s just a small trigger.

One was enough if he’d have taken it back at the construction site with all the dust.

Now he’ll be lucky if four puffs are enough.

He presses the inhaler again. The second puff opening his airways but not enough for him to take a full, deep breath in.

He barely notices one of the men, turning to look at him before stepping on his cigarette and apologizing while the other simply crosses the street.

The apologizing man is saying something, Niall realizes, but he doesn’t have it in him to focus on  _what_  because he’s too worried about the fact that he pushes for a third puff and  _nothing happens_.

He figures maybe it was a lousy idea to go get a refill of an empty inhaler and leaving the full one at home.

Too late for that now.

“C’ll ‘n ‘mbulance.” He rasps out, clutching onto his chest with his bandaged hand while the other tries to find something to latch onto before he passes out. “My mate, L-Louis, too. Phone s’n my pocket. Please.”

“We’re a couple streets away from a hospital, is it alright if I carry you there? Might be faster than waiting for an ambulance. I’m an alright runner.” The guy says, taking Niall by his shoulders and manhandling him like a sack of potatoes against his shoulder.

He’s about to say  _You’re a smoker, are you sure about that?_ But the rapid movement shocks him enough to gasp but it’s not enough. There’s no oxygen. No air. Nothing. And with his chest pressed against a hard shoulder there’s not enough room for the small amount of air he can sort of inhale and Niall really can’t believe he’s gonna die in the arms of a stranger, in the middle of the street while having an asthma attack on his way to refill his god damn inhaler.

If he had it in him, he’d probably laugh.

Things get blurred for a bit. The guy’s apparently a good enough runner. They make it to the hospital before Niall passes out but worse for the wear.

He hears a bit of shouting. Something about  _help_  and  _he’s not breathing_  and  _smoking_  and  _sorry,_ before he’s pulled gently onto a softer surface. The position helping a bit with the sharp pain in his chest.

He’s gasping horribly.

Broken, rasping sounds his desperate body makes as he tries to pull in all the oxygen that’s all over the place but his lungs.

An oxygen mask it’s pulled over his face and Niall wants to cry. He probably is, judging by the blurriness of the place and the dampness he can sort of feel on his face.

It’s so, so awful. Having oxygen  _right there_ , in a mask on top of his face but having his airways so closed off that not even a small amount passes past his lips.

He’s so tired all of a sudden.

His chest hurts, stabbing, shooting pains making his entire torso spasm with pain. Whole body strained with tension, as If every fiber of muscle is trying to come out of his body and  _breathe_  because he cannot do it himself.

He thinks he sees a worried, frantic pair of green eyes before he gives up and lets himself fall into an abyss of darkness.

-

Harry hears more than sees the commotion at the entrance of the E.R. Some random guy in a pair of ratty sweats carrying a young man over his shoulder. He’s screaming nonsense and Harry looks back down at the folder of the medical history of his patient. An old woman who cut her fingers knitting. She’s bleeding a bit, and her blood pressure’s a bit elevated but he’s more concerned over the fact that he asked  _any history of heart attacks in the family?_  And he’s gotten a whole speech about the patient’s husband, son, daughter, niece and sister and about how their dog died of cancer just last year.

He doesn’t have the heart to stop her, so instead he focuses his attention on something else while keeping what he hopes it’s an interested smile on his face.

The yelling at the entrance of the building has died down a little but he still focuses his ears in that direction.

He can’t help the full body flinch he makes when he hears.  _ID says his name’s Niall, he’s 25. No medical history shows up in this hospital other than a broken wrist 3 weeks ago attended by Dr Styles. Are you sure he didn’t say anything else before he collapsed?_

_Collapsed?_

“Mrs Hudson, I’m so sorry to interrupt you but I assure you, your injury is minor and will be attended by a nurse as soon as possible. Thank you, have a nice day.”

He tries not to throw the folder to the ground and running over to the entrance, where a nurse is pulling an oxygen mask over  _Niall’s face,_ but he’s pretty sure the folder still lands on the ground despite his best efforts to put in on the nurses’ station.

“What do we have here?” Harry’s voice booms and the three nurses and the random guy turn to look at him. He focuses his gaze on Niall as the nurse fills him in with what he already heard.

He’s pale, incredibly so. Harry had already noticed that the first time he saw him but this time it’s not a healthy pale that let him see how easily Niall blushed when he complimented his getting in trouble skills.

No, this time he’s so pale his skin is almost translucent. He’s tense all over, gasping and clutching at his chest with both hands with a desperation so primal Harry’s own chest aches in sympathy. He’s crying, his sobs heartbreaking despite the fact that he’s not making a sound at all.

“Oh, he was carrying an inhaler!” The guy’s voice comes into focus again, just as Harry leans over Niall to try to talk him down. “He used it a bit but still collapsed. Told me to call an ambulance and mentioned a Louis. Phone’s in his pocket.”

“We’ll take it from here, thank you sir.” Harry says, then turns to the nurse in a blur of movement when he sees Niall’s eyes close and he goes limp in the stretcher, wheezing breaths still making his body shake. “Give me the strongest bronchodilator you have in the crash car, stat.” he says, yelling instructions to the fast acting nurses. “His oxygen saturation is at 82% if we don’t get it up to at least 90% in the next minute we’ll intubate.”

They get him into a cubicle and control his vitals until they’re more stable. Harry keeping a close eye on everything.

He doesn’t need to get intubated at the end. A strong bronchodilator and a sedative later and his breathing deepens and slows.

He wakes up about an hour later, a headache pressing all over his skull and his chest aching in the way it can only hurt after a bad attack.

He looks around the hospital room. This time with actual walls instead of just curtains.

“You’ve got to stop scaring me like that.” A voice says from beside him. Louis has his hand in a tight grip and it’s trembling slightly. “Honestly Niall, you left your other – full - inhaler at home, who the fuck does that? Why would you be so reckless? I’m gonna start driving you places and carrying eight spare inhalers every time you go out because if I have to get another call from a stranger telling me you’re in the E.R I’m gonna kill you myself.”

Niall’s vitals went up with the yelling, so it’s no surprise when a doctor, Harry himself, opens the door and says, “please, he’s recovering from a severe asthma attack, if you can’t keep it down and keep him calm I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Louis looks a bit flustered, and Niall can see from the expression of his face he’s about to say some not very nice things

“It’s alright,” Niall says, and,  _wow._  He expected a raw throat but not the sharp pain he feels when he clears it and tries again, “it’s alright, not the first time.”

“Can you please step outside while I give him a check over?” Harry asks, polite but with a glint of something Niall can’t name in his eyes, “It’ll be just five minutes but you’re not his next of kin, nor family so you can’t stay.”

Louis takes a moment, giving Harry a look that’d freeze hell over, but at the end he nods. Albeit a bit too hard because Niall can hear his neck crack. “Sure. Yell if you need me Nialler.”

“Sure will, Tommo,” Niall says, and trying to laugh sets off a coughing fit so hard he’s afraid he’ll trigger another attack. He’s not sure his body would be able to deal with one so soon after the other.

Harry passes him water, checking over the small screen at this bedside with a big green 92% and a couple other things he’s sure he’s seen before but apparently still hasn’t got enough oxygen in his brain to understand.

“Your oxygen saturation up to 92%.” Harry starts, putting a stethoscope on and checking his lungs “it’s still not as high as I’d want it but better than the 82% you got here with so we’ll take that as a good sign. Your lungs sound clear, a little wheeze still but that’s to be expected as you recover. I’d say we’ll keep you overnight with a high flow cannula and if I see your sat at 98% you’ll go home with, according to your boyfriend, sixteen inhalers,”

“Sixteen?” Niall says, because his oxygen deprived brain it’s too slow to catch up on the  _boyfriend?_  he actually wanted to ask about

“Well he said he’ll have eight spare ones, and judging by what he said about this not being your first time I’d say it’s better if you walk out with another eight. It’s never too much. Better be safe than sorry.”

“Safe” Niall mumbles, feeling sleepy, exhausted and incredibly sore. “You said that last time. Ended up taking a cab, have the money to pay you back right next to my home inhaler and next week’s appointment.”

“Oh you’re coming back next week, of course. Too itchy?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.”

Harry chuckles a little at that, before saying “I’d say you’re in the road to make a full recovery so I’ll let you to it. You can page me by pressing that red button right beside you and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know?” Niall says, instead of thank you, being loopy after an attack can be worse than the pain sometimes. “He’s my best mate. He has a girlfriend.”  _and I actually wanted to get your number since I saw you three weeks ago_  he doesn’t say, and hey, good, he can have a filter!

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to assume. I’ll call him back in now, bet he’s still worried.”

“I don’t.” Niall rushes out before Harry opens the door to leave, “have. It. One. A girlfriend, I mean.” Loopy, oxygen deprived brain. Niall hates it. “I like you,” Niall finishes, because if he says the wrong thing he can just blame it on his low oxygen levels.

“Pardon me?” Harry says, turning to look at him, giving him his full attention. Niall hopes his fucked up oxygen levels can help with low blood flow to his cheeks.

“You’re a really nice doctor, I mean, I’ve met my fair share of arrogant, mean ones but you’re alright.”

“Well, why, thank you.” Harry smiles, he actually looks happy with the compliment.

“Thank  _you.”_

“No need, that’s what I’m here for.” Harry reassures him, “I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you, I don’t come in tomorrow but I’ll check on you before my shift’s over.”

“Thank you,” Niall says again, more asleep than awake now, “you have nice eyes.”

He thinks he hears Harry chuckle before the door opens, closes again, and he’s asleep.

_I’m short of breath standing next to you, I’ll be the dangerous ledge, you be the parachute. Blue and green below is a masterpiece, but you are beautiful like I’ve never seen_

_3_

_Tell me where it hurts, I just want to build you up, ‘til you’re good as new_

The pain starts as a slow, almost unnoticeable feeling.

When Niall wakes up that morning and turns around to get his phone from the bedside table, the movement jabs something in his stomach that makes him pause. There just long enough for him to feel uncomfortable and slightly nauseous but goes away as soon as he’s on his side.

He’s distracted by an email he got in response to a job application from last week. And even more distracted by a text he got from Harry earlier that same morning.

_7:24 am - You’ve been assigned an interview for your job application as Nutritionist of the Hospital of –_

_5:09 am - Harry: Hey there! Gonna start my shift now. You can visit at noon! I’ll be free for lunch at arou-_

He swipes away the email notification and opens the text from Harry instead.

“Priorities straight, as always.” He mutters to himself. Checking the time in his phone he realizes it’s just almost nine in the morning so he can stay in bed just a bit longer, taking the advantage of being jobless for as long as he can.

_5:09 am - Harry: Hey there! Gonna start my shift now. You can visit at noon! I’ll be free for lunch at around 1 if that works for you. H. xx_

He immediately types up a reply. Already planning mentally his day ahead. He could probably afford to stay in bed till 10 am. The time spent in between breakfast, a shower and getting ready should be less than two hours and that’s just alright for him to walk to the hospital, get there a bit before 1 pm and find a table for them before Harry shows up.

They’ve been texting since Niall’s asthma attack two and a half weeks ago. Harry stated Niall seemed like the kind of person who was prone to needing medical assistance. And even if he said it just to tease him, he still went and gave Niall his number just in case.

Niall, who never misses a chance if he can help it, texted him about what could he do with his wrist after the bandages got taken away. And that started a conversation that sooner rather than later turned into small talk and now, under the pretense of checking on Niall’s arm to give him the green light to start exercising again, they were going to meet for lunch.

Off hours.

It was almost a date, if Niall said so himself.

He got off his bed and as soon as he did so he felt the same twinge in his abdomen again. It was a weird, dull pain that was more bothersome than worrying so he did what he thought best and ignored it. Decided to have a light breakfast instead of the usual grand meal he always had and got into the shower.

By the time he was on his way to the hospital the pain was there more often than it was not. It hadn’t exactly worsened. But instead of blossoming and going away, it intensified for a couple seconds and then ebbed down, never fully leaving.

He was going back in his mind to what he had eaten the day before, thinking that maybe one of the snacks he bought in the street might have given him food poisoning. He was so deep in his thoughts he almost missed the arm that was waving to him from a table close to the entrance of the hospital’s cafeteria.

“Hey, you beat me!” Niall greeted Harry, who stood up to give him a one-armed hug, as if they were old friends who’d known each other their entire lives. It almost felt like that.

“Yep, the E.R isn’t that busy today. I got away before a complicated patient showed up and compromised our lunch time.” Harry explained, sitting down in the seat across from Niall’s. “How’ve you been? Is the arm still bothering you?”

“No, it’s alright now. Last week hurt a bit when I was carrying an armful of groceries but it was just then, hasn’t bothered since.” Niall explained, twisting his wrist in front of them both as if the prove the point. “How do you reckon it is, doc?”

“I see no swelling,” Harry says before he reaches out and grabs him gently by his forearm, “it healed perfectly well, as far as I can see. Liam told me your x-rays showed up alright, too, when you came a while ago.” He says, letting go of Niall with a squeeze. “You’ve been the perfect patient.”

“Think you can clear me for some gym time now, then?”

“As long as you don’t overdo it, you should be fine. Your body will tell you if it needs to stop. Be sure to listen to it.” Harry finishes with a small smile.

“Good,” Niall nods, “it was hard to start going to gym but once I started, man! Going without it the past weeks have been torture.” Niall says, “I’ve been just jogging and stuff but it’s incredible how many things you need your wrist for.”

Harry opens his eyes a bit wider at that, “hope you’ve been coping well overall, then.” He says, a smirk clear on his face.

Niall blushes immediately.

“Oh my god, you’re- I wasn’t talking about that!” Niall huffs out a chuckle, “And my other wrist was perfectly fine, if you’re so concerned about  _that._ ”

Harry laughs at that, bending down and laughing so heartedly Niall has to laugh along with him. “Your face!” Harry continues sniggering. “I was just talking about, you know, cooking. How’ve you been scrambling your eggs with a broken wrist?” Harry asks, trying to get his laughter under control. “That your mind went someplace dirty, not my fault.”

“Yeah right, you’re the innocent one now, uh?” Niall says, wiping a bit of moisture from under his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Don’t be rude now, I’m inviting you out for lunch, don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Harry says, still with a teasing smile on his face. “Hospital food is not always the best but the pasta is always a good choice, you up for it?” He asks as he stands up and pats his pockets until his finds his wallet.

“Woah, now, let’s take things slow, mate, you’re not paying for lunch.” Niall says, standing up as well and getting his wallet out.

“Who says I’m paying?” Harry tuts, “just said inviting, didn’t I?”

Niall pauses to look up at him.

“Hospital staff gets free lunch on weekdays. I just have to find the little coupon they gave us at the start of the month.” Harry says, clearly not finding it in his wallet and frantically patting all his pockets. Niall is quite enjoying the show.

Or at least he was, until the pain that was dull and slow a couple hours ago suddenly sharpens and attacks him all at once. His vision whites out for a second and he can physically feel how pale he goes, all the blood draining from his face and going somewhere in his stomach to attack it with more pain.

He has to brace himself against the chair until it passes. It goes away as fast as it came, but leaves him shaky and if he was nauseous before, now he knows if he takes even a sip of water he’ll start retching.

Harry’s speaking when his vision clears out and his hearing sharpens once more. “-obably left it in my coat back in my locker. I’ll be just five minutes-“ Niall tunes him out again when the pain comes back, not as bad as before but sharp enough he has to sit down to prevent falling down on his suddenly unsteady legs. “-can wait just right here.” Harry finally finishes, and Niall thinks he has enough bits of the conversation to say, “No, no problem, I’ll be right here.”

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, all the teasing smiles and playful tone gone from his face and voice. “You’re awfully pale, Niall, what’s wrong?”

Harry does a 360º from  _friend-sort-of-crush_  to  _full-on-doctor_  Niall feels dizzy with it.

Or it might be the pain again.

“Yeah, yeah, prob’ly just stood up too quick.” Niall says, and distantly he thinks he won’t be able to bullshit his way out of it, not with a professional doctor suddenly kneeling by his side.

“Come on, come with me back to my locker, I’ll give you a quick check up.” Harry says, taking him by the hand and helping him stand up. “You’re shaking, clammy and terrifyingly pale, Niall, tell me what’s hurting.” Harry continues, “Did you have breakfast this morning? Might be your blood sugar dropping.” Harry says, leading them out of the cafeteria and towards a hall at the end of a waiting room. “Have you had problems with low blood sugar before? Could be that too. Or you might be dehydrated, did you drink something before you walked here? It was hot outside-“

“Harry, I’m a nutritionist, ‘course I had breakfast this morning, it was probably better than what you had.” Niall interrupts. “No, I have never had any trouble with my glucose blood levels and I drank just enough, it’s actually quite cold still for the beginning of summer.” He goes on, “and if this is the way you do your medical history, you’re awfully bad at it.” Niall jokes, trying to focus on keeping his knees steady and not dropping to a heap in the floor when the pain floods back in, even worse than before. “Askin’ medical questions might not give you the most reliable information when the patient is in pain.”

That makes Harry stop in his tracks.

They are not even halfway through the hallway, but Harry makes them turn around.

Niall’s vision is greyed up with pain so he barely notices why they’re turning back. He just feels the back of his knees collide with something not too hard, not too soft, and realizes Harry led them back to the waiting room and sat him down on one of the chairs.

“Okay, where does it hurt?” Harry asks, concern mixing with the controlled composure of his voice. “Niall, hey, hey breathe and look at me so I can help you out.”

“M’ stomach,” Niall gasps out, pressing his crossed arms against his mid-section and bending down when the pain gets so sharp it makes him double over, leaning his forehead on his knees. Harry a calming presence, kneeling in front of him and gently squeezing his shoulders.

“When did the pain start?” Harry asks, moving one of his hands towards Niall’s neck and feeling the rushing of his fast pulse. “Is it more on the stomach itself or is it lower? Can you locate it somewhere specific?”

The pain finally ebbs to something Niall can breathe through. Allowing him to straighten again and look up at Harry.

“’t was maybe this morning? Though I did feel sort of, sort of gassy last night, I guess, which is unusual.” Niall explains, trying to get his breathing to a semblance of control. “when I woke up it hurt, like, fast and sharp and then went away,” he has to stop and squeeze his eyes shut when another wave comes and he tenses all over.

“It’s alright, just breathe through it.” Harry shushes him when a whimper escapes his clenched lips, “it’ll be over in a minute, you’re alright here.”

A minute that feels like an eternity later he’s able to go on, “it’s gotten progressively worse as the day passes and now, it’s just, really really sharp and so intense-“ he has to bite his lips to not cry out.

He feels tears crumbling all over his eyelashes, helpless to do something but let them fall.

He had such high hope over today. Seeing Harry again, a sort of lunch date with him, and a building friendship that seemed promising.

Instead he’s here, doubled over in pain in a hospital waiting room, with no prospect of it being nothing that will allow him to continue his day the way he expected it to.

At least Harry’s right there.

“Where do you feel it most?” Harry asks when Niall opens his eyes again. There’s so much pity –or maybe sadness- definitely worry in Harry’s eyes it makes Niall sob just because he feels like shit and his day is ruined.

“It’s- like, low? Definitely in the right side.” Niall stammers, calming down slightly when the hand Harry had on the side of his neck to feel his pulse moves backwards and squeezes the nape of it.

“Try to cough for me,” Harry commands gently, so Niall does, and the pain intensifies so badly he curls up into himself again, sobbing with the sharpness of it. Instead of his forehead colliding with his knees, however, he finds Harry’s shoulder against his face. He’s so comforted by his smell and the warmth he radiates he finds himself unable to stop more tears from falling and his hands from clutching at Harry’s shirt. “Shh, sorry, I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles into his ear.

Niall shakes his head, opens his mouth to tell him he has nothing to apologize for but Harry speaks again before he can attempt to voice a word.

“I’m gonna press against your stomach and slowly move towards your right, alright? If it is what I’m almost completely sure it is, it’s gonna hurt the more I go, so I need you to tell me if it gets worse.” Harry explains, and Niall feels conflicted; on one hand he wants to push Harry away and never allow him to touch his tender abdomen, on the other, though, he wants to bury himself in Harry’s touch and never let him go again.

“I’m gonna be a gentle as I can but you’ll still feel it worsening, okay? I’m sorry.” Harry continues, “I’ll take good care of you, alright, Ni?”

Maybe is the frantic comfort Harry is trying to give him, maybe is the softness he uses to say  _Ni_  but Niall finds himself nodding and letting go of Harry to allow him to do his examination properly.

Harry starts in the top center of his abdomen, which feels tender but not badly so. He slowly moves downwards and then moves towards the right, and as soon as he gets to a spot on the right and low side of his mid-section Niall almost screams.

He gasps a teary, “stop, please, please stop,” before he can remind himself Harry’s just trying to diagnose him, to help him and doing his best to do it gently, but it just hurts so bad he cries out even after Harry removes his hand.

Harry is whispering calming words in his ear again, which is when Niall realizes he’s pressed against Harry’s chest again. He tries hard to focus on him but he can’t repress the urge to vomit that suddenly hits him.

“’m gonna be sick,” Niall mutters, trying to push Harry away, because even if this day went upside down, puking all over Harry is not something he’s ever going to do.

Harry stands up and out of nowhere produces as small plastic bag, passes it to Niall and helps him hold on to it when he inevitably starts retching, parting ways with this morning’s breakfast.

“Now I can see you really had breakfast,” Harry jokes from beside him when he’s done, throwing the wrapped bag into a red trashcan and settling in front of Niall again, a sad smile on his face. “You have appendicitis, Niall,” he continues. “Only way out is surgery, which we’ll need to do as soon as possible to prevent your appendix from bursting.”

Niall looks at him, feeling like a truck has been running him over since he woke up in the morning. “Alright,” he rasps out, “will you do it?”

Harry smiles at him again, “of course, if you want me to. There’s another surgeon on the evening’s shift but I can arrange to do it.”

Niall nods, clenching Harry’s hand when the pain starts again, “trust you,” he whimpers, letting Harry hold him one more time.

“Alright, I’m gonna call a nurse, put you in a gurney and find you a room,” He says typing something one-handed on his pager, the other hand still gripping Niall’s nape softly. “Then we’ll give you some pain meds while we find a spot for an operating room and you’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Sorry,” Niall says, “for making your shift longer. ‘t was supposed to be just a lunch date, not a surgery date.”

Harry laughs then, shaking his head and smiling at him, which makes Niall try for a smile as well, “you’re ridiculous.”

In that moment two nurses get there with a gurney. Harry lifts him up into it and Niall curls into himself when the movement prods another wave of intense pain.

He passes out shortly after that.

-

When he opens his eyes again he feels heavy, tired and clouded with pain medication.

There’s the sound of a machine beeping and the sound of wheels turning outside his door, the chatting of patients and nurses but also the distinctive sound of paper moving from beside him.

He turns his stiff neck to look at his left, only to find Harry deeply asleep. A book on Niall’s bed and Harry’s head pressed against it, the pattern of is breathing making the pages flutter every now and then.

He looks so uncomfortable. Niall is so glad to see him.

He moves his sluggish hand and pokes him in the cheek gently. He giggles when Harry frowns and moves away from it. It’s either the rustling of the paper against his face or Niall’s poking but Harry finally opens his eyes, seemingly taking a minute to remember where he is and why.

“Niall!” He says at last, looking at him with wide eyes, “hey, how’re you feeling? Have you been awake for long? Sorry, I swear I fell asleep like two minutes ago.”

“The marks of paper on your cheek beg to differ,” Niall says, pointing at them and laughing when Harry swats away his finger. He has to stop when the moving makes something jar in his abdomen and he frowns.

“Those will be the stitches,” Harry says when Niall looks down at his stomach, as if he could see them through the blanket. “We had to make an emergency appendectomy because your appendix was close to bursting,” he explains, moving Niall’s blankets and his gown away to check on the stitches, “everything came out alright, we did it right on time and so far you’re recovering well.” He nods, wrapping Niall up again and sitting back down in the chair.

“Thank you,” Niall says.

“You gave me a scare,” Harry says, “are you feeling better now?”

“Loads,” Niall smiles, “I’m sleepy but the pain is gone. I owe you one.”

“Nonsense. It’s my job to fix you up,” Harry says, “however, I can make you pay for lunch on our next date.”

Niall freezes for a moment, sure his eyes are wide and his mouth open.

“What? Don’t backtrack on me now, you called today a date, so I’m allowed to say next one will be a date too.” Harry teases with a smile on his face.

“ _I_  said it was a date?” Niall asks dumbly, a blush taking over his cheeks.

“Yep,” Harry says, “In your defense you said when you were crying in pain and passed out like five minutes after but still.” Harry says, suddenly straitening up and leaning away from Niall, “though if it really wasn’t a date and you didn’t mean to say that I totally understand if you don’t-“

“No!” Niall rushes to say, “no, hey, I- I really meant it. Today, a date, I mean, yes.”

Harry giggles, relaxing once more and sighing. “Yes. Good.”

“Good.” Niall repeats. A silly smile on his face. “When are you free again, then?”

“You’ll be bound to this bed for a couple more days,” Harry says, “and checks up from your Doctor Styles don’t count as dates, so, how about when you’re up and about again, I’ll go visit you at home,” Harry offers, a shy smile overtaking his usual smug one, “it’ll be a chill one, just, you know, take out and chill, you need to rest, you know? Gotta take care of those stitches. It’s important that if you have a fever you-“

“Hey now! Don’t turn a date invitation into a medical thing just like that!” Niall giggles.

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m a doctor first, your date second.” Harry says with a pout that fails to take Niall’s attention off the blush that’s spread all over his face.

“Is that so?” Niall asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “Hope that changes in my house.”

“Nope. Since you’re being so mean to me, I’ll just go, check over your stitches and then leave.” Harry states, crossing his arms and looking away dramatically. If Niall’s stomach didn’t hurt every time it moved, he’s be laughing at his antics.

As it is, he just smiles, all teeth showing. He could bet his eyes are shining and everything.

Harry turns to look at him then, and maybe Niall looks either too pitiful, connected to machines and surrounded in an ugly hospital white that makes him look paler than usual, or he looks way too infatuated, blushing and starry eyed because Harry gets closer again and takes his hand in both of his and then leaning his head on top of them and says, “you’re really cute.” Which of course makes Niall blush even harder.

“I really like you, Harry.” Niall says softly. And it’s like the entire world has narrowed down to just them in the small hospital room. There’s not the sound of Niall’s heart beating hard or the chatter of nurses outside. There’s no pain in Niall’s stitches, there’s no hunger in Harry’s stomach. Just the two of them in a bubble that Niall wishes will never burst.

“I really like you too.” Harry says, equally as soft, and then leans down and kisses the tip of Niall’s nose. “I’d go for the lips but I’ve heard the combination of anesthesia and oxygen gives really bad breath.”

“Harry!” Niall huffs. And this time the laugh escapes him before he can stop it and the tension in his stitches makes his breath hitch and his eyes close tightly.

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck, you’re alright, it’s okay.” Harry assures him, a concerned etch in his face.

“You couldn’t have, you know?” Niall rasps softly when the pain ebbs away, “I only kiss on the lips after the third date.”

Harry’s smile comes back, “then I’ll start planning the third one right away.”

Niall feels like he’s been smiling since he woke up.

_4_

_How our bodies, born to heal, Become so prone to die?_

It’s been almost a month since Niall and Harry went on their second date. Niall’s stitches came out a week ago and since he can move around more freely he’s been thinking of that third date they’ve both been waiting for.

In between Niall’s search for a job, Harry’s long hours at the hospital, Theo’s birthday weekend which he had to fly to Ireland for and a flu that put Harry in bed for five days straight it’s been impossible to find a day they can spend together. Texting and meeting for a coffee in between job appointments and lunch breaks it’s not been enough.

So today, Niall’s taking matters into his own hands.

It’s a sunny Wednesday. He just got some good news after a job interview that had him so nervous he made himself sick with anxiety that very same morning. But it’s been a perfect day – not counting the panic-puking session of the morning - and the cherry on top would be that kiss-in-the-lips-third-date he’s been looking forward to for a month.

He takes a taxi to the hospital and sends a quick text to Harry.

_2:46 pm – Niall: Busy?_

_2:50 pm – Harry: Not really. Just finished with some stitches. Going for a round in the E.R. How’d the interview go?_

_2:52 pm – Niall: I got the job !! I start next week ! Finally gonna get a proper income to invite ya t a fancy place._

The typing dots appear and disappear for a full minute until Harry finally replies.

_2:54 pm – Harry: I hope you know I get clumsy when I blush and I almost run into a nurse who was carrying a syringe._

The funny look Niall gets from the taxi driver when he snorts it’s worth it.

_2:55 pm- Harry: Heading home now?_

Niall realizes he’s about a street away from the hospital so he just replies with a  _Yep !_  before he locks his phone and pockets it with a goofy smile on his face.

As soon as he’s out of the taxi he crosses the street to buy some sandwiches and two coffees from the small café in front of the hospital and then crosses again, a bounce in his step as he imagines Harry’s face when Niall surprises him with snacks, a kiss and calls it a third date.

He doesn’t see the bike that rounds the corner and runs the red light. The guy has the decency to shout out a “watch it!” but Niall still gets pushed over to the sidewalk and falls, knee-first, on the ground.

It’s more dramatic than painful. So Niall moves to sit carefully before the bystanders make a show of it.

As he moves, he notices he has cuts all over his palms and in both knees, he can see a bit of blood oozing from his left knee where his jeans split during the fall and he winces when he sees one sandwich spread all over the street and two empty coffee cups rolling away in the sidewalk, the hot liquid spread all over his clothes.

“So much for a good day.” He mumbles to himself, arranging his aching limbs and stinging hands to stand up.

He’s used to having shitty knees. Walking for hours, running or playing football makes them ache as if he’s 80 instead of just 25, but the kind of pain he feels when he leans his weigh on his left knee it’s so sharp he has to stabilize himself by planting his hands against the floor, the burn he feels on them is nothing compared to the pounding in his knee.

“Oh dear, you’re lucky it’s only a couple steps to the hospital.” A woman says, offering a hand and helping him stand, resting his full weigh on his right leg to avoid crying out in pain.

He winces out a smile at her and says, “yeah, very lucky indeed.” He thanks her before she walks away and cautiously starts limping towards the entrance of the E.R.

When the security guard in the entrance warily looks at him up at down he just mumbles, “just got ran over by a bike.” And she lets him in.

He forgoes the nurses’ station to get a triage paper and instead finds an empty seat in the waiting room, plops down heavily into it and fishes his phone out of his pocket to text Harry.

_3:17 pm – Niall: How’s the round goin?_

It takes Harry about five minutes to reply, meanwhile Niall starts to inspect his knee. It hurts as much as it did that one time Louis convinced him to play a match of football with him and got accidentally kicked in the very same knee.

It doesn’t feel dislocated, he knows by now how that is, it probably just needs the brace he has at home, ice and rest.

Despite knowing is nothing serious, a sad, disappointed part of him wants Harry there. To hover and smother him with medical checkups that involve very gentle touching and maybe Niall will look pitiful enough for Harry to carry him up to the locker room and kiss it better. Kiss  _him_  better.

_3:24 pm – Harry: Finished a bit ago. Gonna head down to the caf for a snack, shift ends at 5. You home already?_

Niall ignores the last part of the text and replies;

 _3:24 pm – Niall: You might wanna come down to the ER again_ _J_

_3:25 pm – Harry: Why is that? You there?_

_3:25 pm – Harry: You sneaky little Irishman. I can see you in the waiting room._

Niall straightens up at that. Looking around until he finds Harry walking towards him with a smile that takes over his whole face.

As he gets closer, though, the smile weakens down to a worried frown and his pace picks up as he realizes Niall is covered in coffee, his palms are red and his knee is stretched out in front of him.

“What happened?” he asks frantically, sprinting over until he’s kneeled by Niall’s feet, “are you alright? What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” he asks in one breath, then, with a deep exhale he asks again, “what happened?”

“I basically got ran over by a bike.” Niall sighs.

“You got  _what_?”

“I was crossing the street, hands full, two minutes away from surprising you with sandwiches and coffee when a bike ran the red light and pushed me out of the way,” Niall explains, “so technically I wasn’t  _ran over_  just got pushed to the ground and it hurt and I fell full on my bad knee,” he continues, pointing to the swollen lump his left knee makes, visible under the jeans. “Cut my palms to prevent falling straight in my face, splattered the hot coffee all over me and the sandwich that was meant for you was half squished by my bum and the other is spread all over the sidewalk.”

Harry is openly staring at him as he talks. A beautiful mix of amusement, concern and fondness in his face.

“It sounds more dramatic than it actually was, and since I was coming over anyway I decided you might as well check me over,” Niall says with a shrug, “plus I was unsure I’d be able to manage the stairs to surprise you in the lockers so I just sat here and waited.”

“You’re utterly ridiculous.” Harry states. Niall is helpless to the sheepish smile on his face. “Come on, finding an empty cubicle at this time is easy enough so we’ll get you there and patch up your cut hands, your bruised dignity and you’ll be alright.” Harry says with an encouraging smile.

The walk to the cubicle is slow and tedious, especially for Niall, who refused to Harry’s suggestion of a wheelchair and instead has to stop every couple of steps to grimace and rub his knee when it gets stiff and painful.

“I can tell you didn’t dislocate your knee so I’ll get you a brace so that you can be mobile for our next date.” Harry says when they’re finally inside the cubicle and he has drawn the curtain that separates them from the rest of the area.

“Which is today.” Niall says. “Do you have access to the hospital’s rooftop?”

“Did you, by any chance, hit your head when you fell?” Harry asks, trying for a joke but sobering up a bit and checking Niall’s head for bruises. “A concussion is actually a pretty common thing in these type of accidents, did you felt dizzy when you fell? Nausea? Limbs tingling? Or did you lose consciousness at any point?”

When he’s done pressing his fingers to Niall’s head and content with finding no bumps he looks down at him, only to find a stern expression on his face.

“Why do you always do that?” Niall asks, looking crossly at Harry, “go on a medical tangent when I try to talk about us, or a date, or literally anything that doesn’t involve my recovery from whatever silly situation I find myself in.”

“First of all, asking about concussion symptoms should have been the first thing I asked you about. Second, this is not something silly. If that bike had pushed you over in the middle of the street instead of close to the sidewalk a car could have run you over, that’s not silly at all. And third of all, I like you a whole lot, and you know that, but I like you whole and healthy, so sorry for taking your well-being as a priority.”

Niall doesn’t respond to that.

The silence stretches for the ten minutes it takes Harry to clean the cuts on Niall’s palms and the wound on his knee, wrap them up and put a brace on his knee.

“Did we just have our first row, even before getting to our third date?” Niall finally says after Harry is clearly done with the medical procedures and is just moodily arranging everything back into place.

It earns him a small laugh, at the very least.

“It wasn’t a row, just,” Harry replies, closing the bandages cabinet and turning his full attention on Niall, “we as doctors aren’t actually allowed to treat our loved ones because it puts us in a compromised position when we might not be able to do things properly.” He explains, taking Niall’s band aid-full hands in both of his. “You could have been really badly hurt today and I was, I wouldn’t say distracted but just, I can’t take the thought of you really needing actual Doctor Styles and me not being able to fill that role because it’s you and I like you and I wanna kiss you and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Niall asks with a sly smile, which makes Harry drop the pout and show him a small smile. “Sorry you felt that way, I promise it really was a silly fall, just the bruises you so expertly fixed. No head trauma, no other major injury,” Niall assures him. “And from now on I promise to be really careful so I don’t, you know, fall out of stages and run out of asthma medication or need major surgery to keep you on your toes.”

“Please,” Harry laughs, “pretty sure you can find plenty of ways to keep me on my toes that don’t include finding you in the E.R. bleeding and washed in coffee.”

“Like suddenly proposing you a date with cafeteria sandwiches and a hot drink in the hospital’s rooftop?” Niall asks, and despite the suggestive wiggling of his eyebrows Harry thinks he actually looks a bit shy – apprehensive – as if Harry could ever tell him no.

“You think that’s the setting you want for our third and final date?” Harry asks in reply, taking a step closer to Niall so that he fits in the V of Niall’s legs.

“Final, uh? You mean after that we’ll stop counting because there’ll be too many to keep count?”

“I mean exactly that.”

“Then yes, a hospital rooftop is the perfect place to finally get to kiss you.” Niall replies, the huskiness in his voice making Harry shiver in the warmth of the E.R cubicle.

“We might as well just kiss right here and there.” Harry shrugs, “if we’re having a date in like tem minutes we can just, go for it now.”

“Nope!” Niall laughs, bopping Harry in the nose and pushing him away softly, “you made me wait till the damned third date for it to happen so we gotta do it the proper way.”

“I hate saying this but I love that your  _bar fight_  made you turn up in the E.R. on my hellish Friday night shift.” Harry says wistfully, reaching out to stroke Niall’s cheek.

“Don’t get all sappy now, the date hasn’t started yet.” Niall says, trying to play it cool, but the blush that’s covering the coffee-splattered cheeks is a beautiful sight.

“Come on then, my dearest,” Harry exclaims dramatically, bowing down and holding out his hand for Niall, who bats it away with a laugh.

“Who’s utterly ridiculous now?” Niall scoffs and Harry giggles.

“I’ll help you walk to the elevator and you can go ahead.” Harry says, helping Niall pull himself down from the small but slightly tall stretcher, “you can open the door with my key and find us a nice, perfect, romantic spot for our long awaited date.”

“You’ll get the food?” Niall asks, walking around the bed to test his knee and the relief the brace gives him.

“I’ll do that, and I’ll see you in about ten minutes.”

Niall nods, walks around the bed to make his way to Harry again and with both hands pressed to Harry’s chest he kisses Harry on his cheek and whispers softly against his skin, “Can’t wait.”

Harry is left there, blushing and breathless for about two minutes before he rushes down to the cafeteria. The faster he gets to Niall, the better.

_5_

_With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath_  

Niall thinks life is going pretty well right now.

He’s got a job he’s content with, a steady income and the sweetest boyfriend he could ever ask for.

His work at a clinic a couple streets away from the Hospital Harry works at allows him to follow a nice schedule, where he doesn’t have to get there too early, doesn’t have to stay in till late and only has two work one weekend a month.

Even though he still gets the jitters when he thinks about the fact that this is his first job since graduating as a Nutritionist and still has so much to learn he’s been doing well and has found himself loving his career more and more every day.

Another highlight of his life is definitely Harry.

They made it truly official after that messy but amazing third date, and have been going strong and steady for almost four months.

He’s already planning something cheesy for the six months anniversary, and since he’s actually gaining money now, he can manage to spend a bit more than ten bucks on sandwiches and coffee and afford dinner in a fancy restaurant.

Not that he or Harry need something like that. But after the fact that their dates have been in a cubicle checking over a broken wrist, at Niall’s home watching movies as Niall recovered from having his appendix removed or at the hospital’s rooftop with cheap sandwiches and watered down coffee, he thinks it’s time to outdo themselves a bit.

There’s been some dates after those, of course, but they either get cut short because Harry gets called in for an emergency or they’re both tired and settle with just homemade dinner at one of their flats.

He called last week to a restaurant Harry mentioned his mom takes him and his sister for special occasions and got an appointment for this evening after work to talk about getting a good table reserved ahead of time, checking out the menu and asking for dessert Harry loves that will surprise him.

He’s looking forward to Harry’s reaction and he still has to wait for it a good bit more of two months.

-

Niall takes a cab to the restaurant’s location to get there faster. Anxiety of getting there late makes him arrive a good twenty minutes early but it’s alright. It allows him to check over the place and also feel oddly out of place when he sees people in suits and fancy dresses eating from a table that has about ten different type of spoons and forks.

He just crosses his arms and tries not to feel self-conscious with his purple uniform he didn’t think to change out of when he left the clinic.

Finally, the twenty minutes are over and a tall, young man wearing a suit and a bowtie approaches him, “are you Mr. Horan?”

“That’s me, yes, hello.” Niall stammers, subtly wiping out his sweaty hands with his clothes.

“If you’ll follow me down to the planning office, we have a client that just got here and can only arrange his dinner anniversary today so if you don’t mind we’ll attend to both of you at the same time, that way you don’t have to reschedule, and since it’s for a similar occasion we might just solve both your doubts right away.”

Niall sees no problem with sharing the meeting with someone else so he agrees and follows the man to a small office, a fancy desk and clearly expensive decorations surround the walls and every corner of the tiny space. He tries not to stare and decides to sit in one of the two chairs at the other end of the desk.

Two minutes after he settles and the man starts asking him about the date he’d like to reserve for his dinner a man walks in with a child in his arms.

He’s tall. Big, Niall would say. Bulky, muscly and very tall. The child, by Niall’s estimation must be about two, but they look so much smaller in the big arms of who Niall supposes is the father.

“Good evening.” He says hastily, grabbing the chair and sitting down on it heavily. “I arranged an appointment to celebrate mine and my wife’s ten year anniversary. It coincides with my daughter’s third birthday so we would like to do both things in one go. I’d like-“

And then he proceeds to ask – though, Niall would rather say,  _demand_  – which decoration he wants, the type of cake he wants for the adults and which one for the kids. Says he wants the restaurant for themselves and then gets out of his pocket a list with the allergies from the guests so they can arrange the menu around that.

Niall is stunned into silence.

Finally, the planner gets control of the conversation and says, “Mr. Horan, I think your reservation is simpler than what Mr. Owen wants so if you want let’s just talk over your specifications really quickly so you don’t sit there for hours. If you have any question we’re available by email and you have my phone number.”

Niall thinks he can hear some sort of reproach towards the other man in his voice, which is amusing, and he agrees.

“It really is something very simple, I’d just like a table for two by the window and if it’s possible to check out the menu, since I’ve never eaten here before, just so I have an idea.” Niall explains.

“We’ll send the menu details to your email.” The planner nods, “would you like the table to be decorated? Is it a birthday you were scheduling for? We could also write a message on the plate where we serve the dessert, if that’s of your preference.”

“It’s for the six months anniversary with my boyfriend,” Niall says with a smile that quickly fades away when he hears a snort come from the man sat beside him. He ignores it, assuming – hoping – that it was meant for the little girl in the man’s arms and continues, “I think no decoration would be fine, thought I’ll go with the message on the plate,” as he talks, he can’t help but glance up at the man, who’s definitely looking at him with- disgust? “Maybe just a  _happy anniversary, love_  or something simple like that.”

“Sure! That’s perfect. I have selected a table for two and sent all the details to your email. Is there any question?”

“Yeah, uh, that day, do we have to join the line that’s usually at the entrance or do we just say we’ve got a reservation?”

“You can just say your name at the door and they’ll sort you guys out.” The planner replies, giving him a polite smile.

“Thank you for your help. This is Harry’s favorite restaurant so I’m looking forward to that.” Niall says, standing up and offering his hand to the planner.

Before Niall leaves the office though, the planner calls out to him, “Oh, Mr. Horan! I forgot, clients who make a reservation with more than a month of advance get a special discount on lunch during weekdays, so you can show your reservation email to the waiter and they’ll know.”

“That’s great! Thank you.” Niall says with a smile.

His lunch hour was rushed today because of a delay with a patient’s appointment so he could use that discount right about now.

He sits in a table for two in the far back of the restaurant and orders a lasagna. It’s the cheapest dish and hopefully, with the discount, he has enough cash in his wallet to pay for it.

-

He’s about to stand up from his chair after paying when he hears someone coming towards his table.

“You people shouldn’t be allowed in this fancy place.” Comes a sneer from behind him and he knows, by the gruff tone of voice, that is the weird, rude man from the meeting. “I had my daughter with me, a little kid so innocent should not have to hear such vulgarities coming from anyone’s mouth.”

He stands up and turns around to look at the man, who’s looming over him, clearly taking advantage of his height. “Listen mate, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I barely even talked during that meeting so I don’t know what  _vulgarities_ you’re going off about.”

“Oh you don’t know?” He mocks, “After I speak to the manager about allowing such disgusting behavior you and your little boyfriend will be getting your dinner cancelled.”

And, oh.

It’s been a while since Niall’s experienced this kind of face to face, blatant homophobia. It’s usually whispers behind his back, weird looks from passersby when he and Harry have a walk holding hands, but usually people are pretty respectful, open minded, and most of the time London’s big and busy enough nobody cares about what he and Harry do or don’t do.

“Alright, you do whatever you feel you should but I feel the one getting his reservation cancelled will be you, mate.” Niall says with a shrug, trying to take a step backwards and leave. He’s definitely not expecting the man to grab him by the arm and corner him against the table and his chest.

“Do not talk to me like that if you don’t want to get your gay ass kicked.” The man spits, squeezing Niall’s arm so hard he’s sure it’s already bruised.

“Yeah? You gonna let your daughter see his father beating someone up, just because I have a boyfriend and I love him and I want to spend a nice night with him?”

“My kid’s with her mother in the bathroom so if that was your way to avoid a beating you failed,  _mate_.” He says the last word with so much venom in his voice he might as well have called Niall a- “And don’t you dare mention what nasty shit you do with your  _pal_  at night because my ears will bleed if I hear it.”

He’s pushing Niall with his chest as he speaks and he’s so big that Niall’s basically lying down on the table, the only thing keeping him half upright is the tight grip the man has around his arm.

“If your ears bleed it might be a symptom of dying and getting rid of homophobic assholes like you is really good for the planet.” Niall hisses, done with getting this excuse of a man walk all over him. “If you do not let go of me right this instant I’ll press charges against you for assault and good look seeing your daughter from jail.”

It might have been the wrong thing to say, because the man loses it right there and then and punches Niall in the face so hard the table breaks and Niall falls hard against the floor. Head thumping painfully against the foot of the other chair and making him see white and black spots of a full minute.

When he comes back to himself is to feel a kick to his abdomen before the weight on top of him is removed and a commotion surrounds him.

Two of the waiters and dragging the man away from Niall, another one has her phone pressed to her ear and Niall hopes she’s calling the police instead of an ambulance.

In the corner of his eye he sees a short, skinny woman holding a shrieking baby girl in her arms.

“Sir, sir are you alright, can you hear me?” A voice close to him is saying, but his ears are buzzing and his stomach hurts so much he knows if he doesn’t focus the room won’t stop spinning and he’ll either pass out or puke. “Matt, I think you should call an ambulance.”

“I already contacted the police, they might take him to the closest hospital. He doesn’t seem badly hurt, just a bit doozy,” another voice says, “Sir, do you think you can nod or give me a yes or no? Are you with us?”

Niall nods once. Squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stop his head from bursting apart. “Don’t call t’ambulance,” he mumbles, “J’st gimme a minute.”

He distantly feels something sliding down from his nose and making a path down his cheek and neck. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the man broke his nose.

After about ten minutes Niall is able to open, and keep his eyes open enough for him to sit down against the wall. His ears are still ringing and his head feels like someone’s hammering inside there but at least he can stay propped up against the wall and, when the police finally arrive, say his statement.

He says again that he doesn’t need to be taken to a hospital, reluctantly they let him be.

They handcuff the man and take him out of the restaurant, not before the asshole screams out some expletives that makes Niall wince, not only from his loudness but also from how incredibly offensive and revolting he is.

“Sir, I’d like to apologize. We are definitely against that type of behavior and would never allow that to ever happen again. We’re sorry we didn’t see when the man started bothering you.” The man from before, Matt, Niall thinks it’s his name, tells him, “Just for your peace of mind, we’ve cancelled that man’s reservation and will not allow him to ever step inside this restaurant again. We’d also like to take care of all the expenses of your reservation, you won’t have to pay for a thing.” The man says fretfully. “I know it’s material things that don’t really matter after how horrible that man was but there’s nothing else we can do now that’s happened.”

“It’s okay,” Niall mutters, pressing his fingers against his eyes, was it always that bright in here? “Not your fault that asshole was an asshole. I’d just like to go home.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t feel comfortable letting you walk out of here alone, you took quite a bad fall and your nose’s still bleeding. We can still call an ambulance, the hospital is close by, they’d take two minutes.”

“It’s fine, my boyfriend’s a doctor, I’ll just give him a call.” He winces and gasps when the movement to take his phone out of his pack pocket jars his sore abdomen and leaves him breathless, but at the end he has his phone in his hands.

One step closer to Harry.

The light from the screen makes pain flare up all over his head but he manages to press call to Harry’s contact and waits.

It only takes Harry two rings to pick up and Niall is crossing his fingers he caught him in a break or a slow shift so he can get out early and come get him.

“Hey, love. Home already?” Harry says as a greeting. His voice is like pain relief to his achy everything.

“I wish,” Niall replies, only now noticing how stuffy he sounds from keeping the napkins pressed against his nose to try and stop the bleeding. That’s when he notices he’s bled through the napkins one of the waiters pressed against his nose so he gratefully takes the handful of them Matt offers him.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asks, Niall can tell he’s tense and alert already, “You’re not catching a cold, are you?”

“I wish,” Niall says again, tries to laugh but the noise gets choked up in his throat when the pulling of his abdomen muscles contract painfully and it throbs where he was kicked.

“Niall, what’s going on, where are you?” Harry worriedly asks. Niall can hear him pacing, so he’s probably in the lockers. Good. Not busy.

“At your favorite fancy restaurant,” Niall replies. He knows he’s being vague, but he kind of, sort of doesn’t want to admit he got beat up by a homophobic asshole. The tears that spring to his eyes he blames for the pain in his head.

“Alright,” Harry breathes out, “what are you doing there and why do you sound so- congested and shaky?”

“Can you come pick me up, please?” He pleads, cursing himself when his voice breaks. “I’ll explain when you get here” He figures he must be quite a sight right now, so there won’t be much explanation needed.

“I’m running down the stairs right now, there’s always a bunch of cabs outside the hospital so I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” Harry says breathlessly, “what do you need? Should I take anything from here?”

“Maybe grab a first aid kit?” Niall asks and he can literally hear Harry’s steps come to a halt.

“Niall what’s going on? What is it? Should I just take the ambulance? Please, say something before I combust.”

“I’m alright,” Niall assures him, though he can’t be sure how reassuring his trembling voice is, “just got a bit beat up but they won’t let me leave alone and, since my boyfriend is a beautiful and smart doctor I thought I’d call him.”

“You’re a lucky fella, then.” Harry says, going for a joke that falls flat because of the clear concern in his voice. “I’m already in the cab, we’ll take the fastest route and you’re only a couple streets away. Just, hang in there, I’ll be there soon, love.”

“Love you,” Niall says before hanging up. He lets the phone fall with a thud to the floor and presses the palm of his hands harshly against his eyes.

He feels like he’s falling apart at the seams.

The light is too bright, he’s still nauseous, dizzy and his ears haven’t stopped ringing since he fell. His abdomen is a big bruise that hurts even when he breathes and makes him think of possible broken ribs.

On the good side, his nose finally stopped bleeding, which could point to it not being broken, and the restaurant staff finally left him alone. Their hovering was just making him feel claustrophobic.

Harry arrives seven minutes later. Still in his hospital scrubs, no jacket and a bag pressed against his hand.

Niall doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he can hear Harry’s frantic voice asking for him and his harried footsteps getting closer to him.

“Niall,” He says. So much emotion just behind that one word. “God, what the hell happened?”

Niall just shakes his head as much as he can without throwing up.

He asks the same question to the waiter that followed him over to Niall’s crouched up spot, who gives him a brief rundown of the situation.

Niall distantly hears words like “assault” and “homophobic remarks” and “kicked” but he feels like he’s in a fog and concentrating on something specific is hard.

“Is there a room or office where I can check him up?” He hears Harry ask, politeness always in his voice despite the clear distress. “There’s chunks of wood from the table all around him and I don’t want him to get any more hurt.”

He tunes out whatever the waiter replies and only focuses his senses again when he feels Harry’s hand on his neck before saying, “Ni, I need to give you a proper checkup and I can’t do it here. They got us an office where I’ll be able to do that, do you think you can walk?”

Niall shakes his head, and to stress out his point speaks out a feeble “No.”

“That’s alright,” Harry sooths him, “I’ll carry you, okay? I think you might have a mild concussion so moving you will make you feel a bit sick, but we’ll go slow and gentle, is that okay?”

“Feel sick already,” Niall whines softly, lifting his hand till it finds Harry’s pressed against his shoulder, “head hurts a lot.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the concussion, but you’ll be more comfortable in the office, we can lie you down on the table with a couple pillows they’ll get from us from the kids area and you’ll feel better.”

Niall nods, then, he clearly can’t stay curled up in the floor forever.

He feels Harry’s arms wrap around his shoulders and moving him gently till he can get one of his arms under Niall’s knees. The lift is slow and smooth, just as Harry promised. But when he feels Harry take a step forward he can feel the whole world tilting out of its axis and he squeezes his eyes tighter.

He must have made a noise of agony because Harry presses him closer to his warm chest and shushes him quietly. He carries Niall slowly to the small office, thanks the waiter in a low voice, trying to disturb Niall the less as possible.

Niall can feel a kiss pressed softly against his forehead before Harry maneuvers him into a lying down position in the table. He smiles despite the pain and presses a small kiss into whatever is closest, he guesses is Harry’s shoulder.

When he’s fully lying down in what Niall thinks it’s the office desk covered with a table cloth and small pillows he breathes a sigh of relief. Just not holding his head up helps with his headache.

“I’m gonna have to check your eyes, babe, can you open them for a little second?” Harry requests patiently.

“You’re gonna shine a super bright light into my eyes, aren’t you?” Niall mumbles, smiling again when Harry lets out a small laugh.

“I gotta do what I gotta do.” Harry replies.

It’s painful. As soon as his vision gets attacked with the bright shining of the penlight he gasps and flinches away. The movement, combined with the flashes of light behind his eyes make him retch painfully.

The lasagna was so damn expensive he hopes he won’t actually throw it all up.

Harry turns off the penlight and shushes him again, pressing his forehead against Niall’s and stroking his arms and whatever skin on reach. Instead of feeling trapped, Niall feels like he’s in a cocoon. Safe and protected.

The checkup goes easier after that.

Harry finds a lump starting to form in the right side of his head, where he hit it against the foot of the chair. He says his nose isn’t broken but that’ll take a couple weeks till the swelling goes fully down.

He assures him there’s no broken or cracked ribs, but there’s a huge bruise in the left upper side of his abdomen which will make it painful to breathe deeply when he’s sitting down.

Other than that, the concussion is the one he’s more worried about.

“I think it’s a mild one, otherwise you’d have passed out right after you fell, and your symptoms might be worse.” Harry explains, offering him a painkiller after helping him sit up a bit more against the few pillows they have.

“We’ll wait till you’re more settled to go to the hospital, alright?”

“Wanna go home now,” Niall whines, he’d be pouting if his head wasn’t throbbing and his face didn’t feel like a bruise.

“I’m sorry, love, but we need to get an MRI to be sure there’s no intracranial bleeding and x-rays to make sure there’s no broken ribs,” Harry explains, “But if we get you in a cab right now - because I’m sure you won’t let me call an ambulance - the movement will definitely make you puke.” Harry says. “Give it a couple minutes and the meds will do their job, then you’ll wait here till I hail a cab and then I’ll come back and princess-carry you outside.”

“I feel like a part of you is enjoying this.” Niall complains.

“Coddling you and carrying you princess-style? Sure. Seeing you beat up, in pain and miserable, not really.”

“I’m sorry.” Niall says, and frustratingly enough he feels tears prickling at his eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“None of that was your fault. That bastard was a fucking prick and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it anymore, Haz,” Niall says, a plea hidden in his raspy voice. “Those sort of things have barely ever happened to me and what happened today just-“ He stops to swallow down his tears.

Can a concussion make someone annoyingly emotional?

“You have all the right to be upset and angry. If I had been here- God. Let’s just- Why don’t you tell me what were you doing here in the first place, uh? Having a fancy lunch without me? Not fair, Ni.”

That makes Niall smile, “guess there’s no point in keeping it a surprise.” Niall shrugs, “wanted to make a reservation for our sixth month anniversary.” He explains, feeling somewhat embarrassed about starting planning a month anniversary with almost 2 months of advance.

“You were  _what_?”

“I know this is like your favorite restaurant and your mum brings you here in your birthday so I thought it’d be especial.” Niall says, “maybe you’ll think it’s stupid but I just thought all our other dates are always so…simple, I guess, I wanted to do something  _more_  for this time.”

“It’s  _not_  stupid, Niall, oh my god. How are you real?” Harry gushes, leaning over him and pressing a soft kiss to Niall’s shafted lips. “I love you. And I hope you know that even if our dates are in a hospital cubicle or in a five stars restaurant, as long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

“Sappy,” Niall mutters, before reaching out to Harry’s neck and pulling him into another kiss.

“It’s so expensive here, though, I don’t want you spending all your savings on one night.” Harry says, “we can split the bill, that way it’ll-“

“Nope.” Niall says firmly. “It was my idea, no way I’ll let you pay a penny.” He continues, opening his eyes a little bit to wink at Harry, “Plus, since I got beat up in their restaurant they decided to take care of all the expenses. I’m a lucky fella.”

Harry looks at him with both amusement and sadness in his eyes. “I’d rather pay whatever millions we have to pay to eat here rather than see you like this.”

“Stop being cheesy.” Niall whines, “I’m a lucky fella because I have you. And I love you. And I’m not ashamed of that. And yeah, what happened today shouldn’t have happened. Should never happen, to anyone, ever. But it did. And right now I just want to focus on the fact that I have you and not a single homophobic douchebag will get me to let you go.”

Harry takes his hand and kisses it before turning to look at him. “Who’s being cheesy now?”

“Stop throwing my words back at me.” Niall pouts.

“I love you,” Harry says, “and nothing, nothing ever, ever, ever will make me let go of you.”

Niall smiles, despite the throb in his nose and the headache. As long as Harry’s there for him he’ll be alright.

_\+ 1_

Let it be said that when people mentioned  _adulating_  and asked him about his plans the future, Niall always got a daunting feeling in his belly, tingling in the tips of this fingers. He never imagined he’d be 27, head of the Nutrition department at one of London’s most important hospital, living together in a house he owns with the love of his life.

Economic and emotional stability seemed like something impossible, even more so being this young.

Despite all odds, though, here Niall is, celebrating the two year anniversary of his relationship with Harry, with enough cash on his wallet he can invite him for dinner in the fancy restaurant they had their six months anniversary back then.

He feels two years is enough of knowing and loving someone to propose sharing the rest of their lives together.

He has it all planned beforehand.

Harry will sit on the window seat, Niall will order them two glasses of red wine to accompany their meals, and the waiter will give Harry the glass that will contain the ring in the bottom of it, the dark red color making it impossible for the ring to be seen.

He’s giddy with excitement and apparently it’s visible and clear on his face because Harry points it out on their drive to the restaurant.

They skip the line, find their seats, Harry sits by the window, Niall orders the wine and he’s so sure everything will work out so well he lets go and starts focusing on how beautiful Harry looks instead of imagining his reaction at the end of their dinner.

They proceed to eat and chill and talk and when Niall notices there’s just a sip left in Harry’s glass he grins to himself. A shiver running all over his body at the excitement and anticipation about Harry’s reaction.

He’s so focused on his thoughts he takes a huge gulp of wine down and when he’s swallowing something catches in his throat and stops there.

He tries to swallow again, harder this time, but he can feel it trapped in his windpipe and it’s making it hard to breathe, maybe because of the panic…He thinks he might have swallowed a pit of potato without chewing.

On the other side of the table Harry drinks the last drop of his wine and there’s no ring, no surprise in Harry’s face. Nothing. Just the constricting feeling in Niall’s throat and the realization that he just swallowed down the ring he was going to propose to Harry with.

How do you proceed in a situation like that?

Apparently Niall’s body figures it out on its own because he feels the cough starting in his abdomen and making its way up harshly until he hacks hard, leaving him breathless and unable to hide that something is very wrong.

“Woah there, you alright?” Harry asks, looking at Niall with wide eyes when another cough makes him almost retch, “you can slow down, not planning on stealing your food.” He jokes, though his laugh is cut short when Niall wheezes and coughs harder still. The rough hacking makes the ring move slightly upwards though, and it hurts. Burns. He can feel it scratching the tissue every time he coughs and it stings in such a way Niall is forced to press both hands against his throat, as if he’s physically trying to force it out.

“Niall?” Harry asks, voice firm yet clearly anxious. “Did you swallow a bone? What’s going on, can you breathe? Talk to me.” He stands up then, going over to Niall’s side of the table and kneeling next to him as Niall pants and whines, fingernails scratching at his neck in desperation.

“Your lips are turning blue, Niall, do you know what you swallowed?” Harry demands, frantically.

Niall gags roughly when he tries to say, “ring”. And when he sees Harry’s confused stare he gives up and lets his body cough and cough and cough some more.

Harry pats his back harshly and it moves, Niall can tell because the small diamonds are making it more painful as they shift.

Despite that, it must shift to be in a position where the air passes more freely because Niall is able to take a deep breath and say “I swallowed a ring.” It’s croaky and breathless but the shock in Harry’s tells him the message was received.

He isn’t expecting it when Harry grabs him off from the chair, gets behind him and presses both fists against his abdomen. His brain faintly thinks  _oh, Heimlich maneuver, of course._  

The position and sudden pressure on his full belly makes him retch. Every single muscle, from his throat to his abdomen constricting painfully to get the foreign object out.

It helps, though, after a third push it feels closer to the surface.

He keeps wheezing and Harry keeps pushing until finally the ring falls in a clatter to the floor and Niall is being fully supported by Harry because he suddenly feels like he might pass out.

He’s panting as if he just ran a double marathon and his throat hurts like it does when he gets tonsillitis, except worse because the pain burns farther down than just in his throat. The world feels hazy and there are people talking loudly and Harrys still pressed to his back asking him if he can breathe. He’s so overwhelmed, but the only thing he can express with is a whine.

He blushes at the attention from the entirety of the restaurant he must be receiving and swallows hard to keep himself from puking. The adrenalin is going down and he feels shaky and weak.

“Is that really a god damn ring?!” Harry’s voice pierces through the haze Niall’s surrounded in, and the raspy breathless laugh he lets out hurts and makes him feel sick.

“I’m gonna puke.” He croaks out, and Harry basically carries him over to the toilets.

He’s sad to see his fancy dinner go down the drain, but Harry wipes his clammy forehead and helps him stand up to wash out the taste with tap water.

“There were no traces of blood on your puke so I’m gonna assume you didn’t hurt or scratch your esophagus.” Harry stats, he’s still rubbing Niall’s back up and down. “Now, would you mind explaining why did you swallow a ring? Because if it was in your food, as much as I love this restaurant, we’ll have to report them, aren’t people in the kitchen supposed to take off their jewelry before they cook to prevent this?”

Niall, despite the ache that burns down his throat, laughs at Harry’s obliviousness.

“I put it there.” He rasps out, taking another mouthful of tap water to soothe the burn.

“You put a ring in your food and swallowed it for fun and giggles?” Harry deadpans.

“No, you dork.” Niall says, turning around to look back at Harry, “I planned it all. Everything a waiter mixing our glasses and ending up with the glass of wine that was meant for you.”

“You wanted it to be  _me_  who swallowed a ring? Was it some sort of hidden camera prank? I see these types of things in the E.R. a lot, babies swallowing Legos and adults ending up with coins trapped in their airways so you shouldn’t ever joke about-“

“Harry, for fuck’s sake, I was gonna propose.” Niall interrupts him, and even with his voice so shaky and croaky he manages to shut Harry up. “I thought we were in a point in the relationship where we’re ready for this. So I went all out for our anniversary, asked and explicitly told the waiters that you loved to seat close to the window so that your glass would be put there, with the ring inside. They told me they use some sort of tape to stick it to the bottom of the glass so the person sees it when they take the last sip from it but I thought it’d be, I don’t know, funnier? To see you getting the ring out of your mouth and just, reacting and I had it all ready I even had a speech, so sappy-”

He stops his rant when he realizes that, one, his voice is shot to hell and it hurts to speak, and two, Harry is frozen staring down at him. Not a single part of his body moving.

“Are you breathing?” Niall asks, taking Harry’s hands in both of his, “if you think we’re not ready for that next step then I totally understand and once I go buy another ring I’d still like you to have it, as a promise for the things to come.”

“It’s not- It’s not  _that_ , Niall, jesus. You almost died before you could even ask me to marry you, how am I supposed to react to this situation?”

“With either saying yes or no despite the fact that the ring I got you is lying around in the restaurant’s floor because I swallowed it?”

Harry looks at him, silent, yet saying so many things with just his eyes.

Finally, he says, “Yes. Of course yes, what the fuck, Niall.” He breathes out, grabbing Niall and squeezing him against his chest, “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes, yes.”

Niall gets teary, thankful for the fact his face is hidden in Harry’s chest.

He’s also glad to feel Harry’s heartbeat is as fast as his.

“I love you,” Niall whispers his words against the bit of skin peeking out of Harry’s unbuttoned top buttons. “We can go to the store tomorrow and get it fitted just right. Maybe they’ll even give us a discount if we tell them the comedy of the proposal.”

Harry leans back a bit and looks down at him, making Niall look up to see his happy, shining beautiful face. “I love you so much,” Harry says lovingly, “and the fact that it was wide enough for it to be trapped in your windpipe tells me we don’t need it fitted.” Harry says, “You know I sort of have thick fingers. And also, we’re not getting another one. I haven’t seen it properly, since you projectile spit it to the other side of the restaurant, but I bet it’s beautiful and I’m gonna love it.”

“God, we’re fucking ridiculous.” Niall says, laughing softly and leaning his forehead rest against Harry’s collarbone.

“Ridiculously serious, though. We’ll find it, disinfect it and it’ll be ready to say your speech and kneel and ask the question properly instead of in the bathroom of our favorite restaurant.”

“You spared me a trip to the E.R., maybe it’s true, what people tend to say, it’s good to have a doctor close by.” Niall gushes, “Can’t wait to say  _my husband’s a doctor_.”

“Can’t want to have kids and raise them,” Harry says, taking Niall by surprise, “children raised by a doctor and a nutritionist, can you image how healthy they’ll be?”

Niall can’t help but laugh. Trying to hide the tightness in his throat that’s more because of hearing Harry say  _have kids_  and  _raise them_  and _children. Plural._  The promise of a future Niall always thought was too fairytale-y for it to me truth is enough to forget the pain.

“So,” Harry says, “shall we venture out to the outside world that exists out of this bathroom and face the stares of an entire restaurant?”

“I say we make a run for it through the window on top of the toilets.” Niall replies, deadly serious.

Until Harry cracks up and bends down laughing.

“I’m not up to letting my fiancé get stuck to a window after he swallowed my engagement ring.” Harry tells him, cheeks red and smile wide, he’s beaming and Niall is so glad that despite how it all went down, he’s still his fiancé. “I think that’d be too much embarrassment for one night.”

“You’re probably right,” Niall nods, a cheeky smile on his face, “hope you’re not too embarrassed of being seen with me.”

“Never.” Harry says, still smiling but voice serious and firm. “I’ll always be proud and happy to call you mine, in any way possible. My boyfriend, my fiancé, my future husband, my nutritionist, my lad, my boo, my sugarpie, my cutie patootie-”

“You need to be stopped.” Niall giggles, blushing despite himself. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Here’s to hoping we’ll never find out,” Harry smiles, “you think they’ll give you a courtesy mint so I can kiss you silly?”

 “I think they should give me a courtesy dinner after they messed up and made me swallow your ring.” Niall jokes, and as if on cue there’s a knock on the bathroom’s door.

“Excuse me? I’m the restaurant’s manager, is Mr. Horan alright? Do we need to call an ambulance?” A voice comes through the door.

“Do you think he heard me?” Niall asks in a whisper, “they really should give us free meals for a year, at least.”

Harry snorts quietly before he shouts out, “we’re good, give us a minute.”

Then he puts his hands on Niall’s cheeks and looks at him, examining and diagnosing him with just a gentle touch and his wide, green eyes. “Are you alright?” he asks, and when he receives a nod from Niall he continues, “Your throat will be sore for a couple days, I’ll prescribe you some painkillers tomorrow morning as soon as my shift starts. Bland foods will be your best friends for at least a week.”

“Okay, doctor Styles,” Niall replies, “I love you.”

“Love you back, so much.” Harry says. Then he kisses Niall on the tip of his nose and goes to open the door.

“Hello, I’m Harry, Niall’s fiancé,” Harry starts, making the manager look at him with wide eyes. Niall notices he had the ring wrapped around a napkin in one of his hands. “May I ask how did this happen? Niall explained everything was planned and talked thorough beforehand.”

“I’m sorry. We were short staffed tonight and the waiter that served you was called last minute, so he didn’t know about what you had organized beforehand, Mr. Horan, we’re deeply sorry, the fault falls on us completely and we’re glad you’re okay.” He explains, “we offer you our sincerest apologies and would also like to assure you that you won’t have to pay for tonight’s dinner, it’ll be all on us.”

Harry nods, standing up to his full height and offering the man his hand, “Thank you. I hope you’re more careful from now on. I’m a doctor and I know how serious these type of accidents can be.”

Niall has never seen Harry pulling an  _I’m a doctor_  move. He’s a bit dumbfounded by it.

“Of course, sir.” The man nods, gulping hard and messing with his tie before he says, “dessert will be served in your table in a couple minutes, I hope you keep enjoying your dinner despite out mistake.”

Niall says a “thank you” before the man closes the door and leaves them alone in the bathroom again.

“Will we ever have a date that doesn’t involve you getting into trouble?” Harry chimes, turning around and facing Niall again.

“Me getting into trouble has given us two free meals now, I’d call that a success.” Niall jokes, “told you I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I’d just like to keep you safe and away from medical emergencies.” Harry replies, putting his arms around Niall’s neck and bringing him closer.

“You have a lifetime with me to do just that.” Niall says, taking a step closer and burying his face in Harry’s chest.

“You can be sure of that.”

Niall smiles, presses a kiss to Harry’s collarbone and tugs him closer. “Then we’ll be alright." 

**Author's Note:**

> soooo, medical warnings in case u wanna know if there's something u feel queasy about: broken bones, asthma attacks, appendicitis, a bruised knee, concussions, lil mention of a bleeding nose, puking and swalling foreign objects.
> 
> lil facts about the fic:
> 
> \- the italized parts and the title of the fic are songs by 'sleeping at last' it was actually my sister's idea to put lyrics related to each scene so there it goes, if u want the titles of the songs i chose u can tell me in the comments and i'll be happy to link you!
> 
> \- oxygen saturation levels should be aroun 95 - 100, better if it's higher than 98. anything lower than 90% is B A D.
> 
> \- I AM NOT A DOCTOR. i dealt with them while i was doing practice in my last semester but that's it. i tried to research for most things but pls know im a nutritionist so medicine is not my field and i apologize if you're a doctor/med student and had to stop and laugh at all the ridiculous things i wrote as treatments.
> 
> \- i do not know how the health system works over there
> 
> \- a huge shout out for my sister who gave me the great idea of making niall choke on his engagement ring as a Grand Finale.
> 
> \- (disclaimer: dont put rings in ppl's drinks. dont try anything that happened in this fic at home)
> 
> \- niall is wearing a purple uniform bc in colombia that's the colo we use as nutritionists, idk if that's a thing in other countries but there u go! i thought it was cute and niall looks pretty in purple/lilac so i made it happen and no one was there to stop me.
> 
> finally, THANK U for being SO patient and lovely. i hope u liked it.
> 
> you can send me comments or prompts/ideas at [tumblr dot com](starkniall.tumblr.com)
> 
> sorry for any and all mistakes.


End file.
